Danger's Edge

4 Hours-2

“Yes, but I needed it. Is this relevant?” I ask.

“It could be,” Paula replies. “Co-Codamol contains codeine. It’s an opiate. If taken along with any other drugs, the effect can be exaggerated or there can sometimes be side effects.”

“But I didn’t take anything else.” I assert.

“Nothing that you’re aware of,” Paula replies. “Possibly someone else administered something to you without you knowing about it. How much Co-Codamol did you take?”

“Two tablets each morning. I think the pills are 500mg.”

“Okay, that’s noted. Now, can you tell me if you have ever suffered from blackouts or memory loss in the past?”

“No, never.”

“How good is your memory, normally?”

“I’d say it was very good. To qualify with my degree, I had to study and retain large amounts of data. I’m good at remembering names and faces as well as addresses and phone numbers. I suppose, like anyone else, there’ll be the odd occasion when I’ll forget a birthday, or where I mislay my keys or my phone, but overall I’ve never had any problems.”

“What about your family? Is there any history of dementia or Alzheimer’s?”

“No, I don’t think so, other than my grandmother. She has been diagnosed with vascular dementia, but it only started two or three years ago and she’s well into her seventies.”

“What about mental health? Do you, or have you ever had any issues?”

Before I can answer, we’re interrupted by the sound of knocking. An officer pokes his head around the door. “Hi, Paula. I’ve a Jenny Douglas here for Briony Chaplin.”

“Yes, we were expecting her, send her in,” Paula replies.

Jenny comes in carrying a large bag. “I think I’ve got everything you asked for. It took me less time than expected. A mixture of little traffic and breakneck speed,” she says, then reappraises, remembering where we are. “I didn’t go over the speed limit, honest.”

“Thanks so much, I feel better knowing I have this ready,” I say.

Jenny gives a cautious smile, takes the seat on my left and immediately clasps my hand in hers. She looks at Alesha and says, “I’m back now, if you’d like to go.”

“No, it’s okay,” answers Alesha. “I’d like to help if I can.”

Jenny shrugs.

“You can stay if you like. It’s entirely up to Briony,” Paula says.

Although I haven’t known Alesha for long, when I think about it, I feel comforted by having her, as well as Jenny, here with me. “Thank you for staying,” I say

“Are you okay?” Jenny asks, looking at me.

“I think so, for now. Paula has just asked if I, or my family, have any memory problems or mental health issues.” I look back at Paula. “Thankfully no, I haven’t ever had any problems.”

“And what about your family?”

“No, nothing.”

“Can you really be certain?” Jenny interrupts, frowning and looking at me.

“What?” I ask, then realise what she’s getting at. I close my eyes tightly. I don’t want to deal with this. Without realising, I clench my fist tight and my nails unintentionally pierce the skin of Jenny’s hand. I only realise when I feel her abruptly pull back. “Sorry,” I offer, lamely.

“Is there something you need to tell me?” Paula asks.

I stare at the floor, not wanting to make eye contact, my voice little more than a whisper. “If you must know, I was adopted as a baby. I was only a few months old when I came to live with Mum and Dad. I have never known any other family.”

“What can you tell me about your birth parents?”

“Very little. All they told me was that my mother was a single parent. She was diagnosed with a terminal illness shortly after my birth and I was offered for adoption.”

“Have you ever researched to find who your real parents were, or whether you have any other relatives?” Paula asks.

I’m affronted and it’s not only her questions; I find her style of asking to be confrontational and very intrusive. How dare she make assumptions or try to impress her own values onto me? I’m also annoyed with Jenny. How could she leave me open to this when she must already know my feelings on the matter?

“I know who my real parents are – they’re the ones who’ve cared for me and raised me for the last twenty-five years. Just because some man and woman went through a random act of f*********n, resulting in an egg being fertilised, doesn’t make them parents. It certainly doesn’t make them my parents. There’s no reason why I need to, or want to, find out more about my biological mother and father.”

realmyI know I’m sensitive on this issue and I shouldn’t let it get to me. Maybe it’s guilt, because, if I were to be honest, I’ve often thought I’d like to research where I came from, but I don’t want to upset Mum and Dad. They haven’t ever discouraged me, but I’m concerned it might be taken as a betrayal. It’s nobody’s business but mine, so I won’t have anyone, whether they be police, friend, or anyone else, trying to tell me what I should have done.

“I’m sorry,” Paula says. “I didn’t mean to upset you. The purpose of my question was to find out if there might be…”

“Might be what?” I’m trying to calm down but it’s a struggle.

“If we’re going to properly investigate to find out what happened to you, then you need to be completely honest with us. We need as much information as possible, so we don’t waste resources looking down blind alleys and so we explore every relevant avenue. You may think it improbable, but we need to research whether your adoption has any relevance to the enquiry.”

and“In case I’ve inherited any mad genes,” I say, my tone caustic.

Jenny places her hand on my arm. Whether it’s to support and comfort me or to restrain me, I can’t tell. I’m intolerant and shake her off.

“I won’t pull my punches,” Paula replies. “Yes, it’s our job to consider every possibility. We can’t rule out that your complaint might be frivolous. We also need to consider whether any family members could have an involvement, be they birth or adopted family. Statistically, a very high percentage of crimes are committed by family members, so we will want to carry out checks on your birth family. For what it’s worth, I believe what you’ve told me. However, I’m duty-bound to follow the standard procedures.”

I inhale deeply, considering her words. “I’m sorry if I overreacted. My emotions are very near the surface.”

“That’s understandable, given your situation.” She continues, “I think it best if we can move on.”

“Yes,” I agree, nodding.

“Are you currently, or have you recently been, in a relationship?” Paula asks.

I frown and shake my head.

“Please answer, verbally, for the recording.”

“No, nothing serious.”

“Can you tell me the last time you had s****l i*********e?”

Jenny clasps my hand, and this time I don’t withdraw. She knows the answer because I’ve told her about it. I should have expected this question. I expected to be questioned about my personal life, but nevertheless, someone I don’t know quizzing me on such personal issues feels intrusive.

“Saturday night,” I reply. “The Saturday before last Friday,” I correct. I feel the need to explain further. “Michael and I were in a relationship for over a year. We were very close. I thought we would get engaged, but then he was offered a transfer to a big job in Newcastle. This was six months ago, about the same time as I was being recruited at Archers.”

I sigh, then carry on. “I was telling you the truth when I said I haven’t recently been in a relationship. When Michael moved away, we agreed to have some time apart… see how it worked as a long-distance relationship. At first, we talked daily but gradually it became less frequent. He called to tell me he was coming up to Glasgow last weekend. We met on the Saturday and it was as if we’d never been apart. We shared a meal and a bottle of wine. He stayed that night at my flat and yes, we did have ‘s****l i*********e’, but in the morning he admitted to me he’d found someone new in Newcastle. I was furious because he took advantage of me, acting as if we were a couple and not telling me it was a one-night stand. I threw him out and told him I never wanted to see him again.”

Despite my determination that I’d never let the bastard upset me again, I feel the trickle of tears roll over my cheeks. Jenny is holding my hand reassuringly and Alesha has taken my other hand.

Much as I don’t see the point, Paula takes Michael’s contact details.

“I’ll contact his local police force and get them to speak to him,” she says. Knowing he may be inconvenienced doesn’t displease me, even a bit.

“Do your mother and father know about Michael?” Paula asks.

“I didn’t tell them about last weekend. They did know when we were a couple. They weren’t at all upset when he moved south because they didn’t particularly like him. They thought he wasn’t good enough for me,” I say, containing a restrained half smile.

“From what you’ve just told me, I think they may have been correct,” Paula replies. “Now, can you tell me if there’s anyone you’ve had an argument with, or with whom you’ve had a serious fallout in the recent past? Is there anyone you know who might want to get back at you for anything?”

I shake my head. “There’s no one I can think of. I sometimes have the odd squabble at work over business issues but nothing out of the ordinary. There can be petty rivalries, but that’s about it.”

“Anything outside of work?” Paula probes.

“No, nothing. Nothing I can think of.”

“Any old issues, anyone who might hold a grudge?”

I try to think but come up with nothing.

“One final question. Have you checked your pockets and your handbag? If so, was there anything unusual… anything missing, or anything there that you hadn’t expected?”

I tell her my concerns about the missing money and bank card. She looks perturbed and takes my credit card from me so she can check for any unexpected purchases made using it and, as I’m able to remember my bank details, she says she will also check for transactions on the missing debit card.

“If there’s nothing else, then I think we should go across to the clinic to have you examined,” Paula says. “They’ll take prints and DNA from your friends as well, for elimination purposes.”

A shiver runs down my spine at the prospect.

Both Jenny and Alesha insist they will go along as they don’t want to leave me.

* * *

5 Hours

Jenny and Alesha are asked to wait in the reception area before being called to give their samples. Meanwhile, Paula takes me through and introduces me to the doctor and her team who’ll be carrying out my examination. I’m desperate to get this over with and although I’m given each of their names, nothing registers.

Paula gives me her business card with instruction to call her number if I remember something relevant, or think of anything which I’d like to add to my statement. She also tells me to use it if there’s any other reason I want to contact her. She also leaves me an information pamphlet with contact numbers for local r**e crisis centres and other support groups. I stare blankly at the booklet before stuffing it in my bag, not wanting to believe I’m here, doing this. She tells me to expect a call or a visit from someone from the r**e investigation unit.

“But I don’t have my phone. How will they contact me?”

“They’ll call, or come to your home address. We have your landline and can call it. If you’re going to be away from home, then call me to let me know where you’ll be and how we can contact you. We should be able to return your mobile before long, maybe even tomorrow. One other thing – the forensics unit may want to check over your flat. Are you okay with that?”

I can’t make sense of it but nod my agreement.

She explains that as there’s nothing more for her to do at this point, she’ll leave me here.